Renee: His Good Girl – Part 1

It would be their five-year anniversary tomorrow. Renee had planned things out carefully, and all the last-minute details were taken care of. It had been an emotionally-charged day, with several patients discontent and testing her professional calm. It was never a good idea for a psychologist to become entangled in her patients’ problems. Some days, though, it was harder than others, and it left her a little moody and introspective.

Curling up in the leather sofa in the sitting room, she opened the journal that held her entries from five years ago and began to read.

The graduation ceremony was dull, but I was glad I went. Met the most fascinating man there: Kevin Watson. He’s a famous economist who has some sort of proprietary investment model that he leases to hedge funds and the like. Anyway, he’s a rich guy who gave the keynote speech at the dinner for the Masters’ graduates. He took my breath away with his speech. So authoritative, but funny. Handsome, with wavy dark hair, and piercing gray eyes. The broadest shoulders and strongest physique I’ve seen for a long time. I spent some time talking to him at the end of the evening, and he asked me out! Not in that go-ahead-shoot-me-down way that so many men have when they think a girl’s too attractive to give them the time of day. He was confident that I’d say yes. Imagine that! So what could I say but yes! We’ll meet tomorrow at Taste of Morocco in the valley.

The next day’s entry made her warm inside, giving her a little jolt down low in her belly.

He’s gone home. It’s three a.m., but I’m wide awake. It was an exhausting night, but at the same time, I haven’t been this exhilarated since things ended with Tom more than a year ago. Kevin is a guy I could really fall for. I found myself drawn to him, mesmerized even. He is so smart, so funny. Incredibly potent in all the right ways.

He treated me well, but was always in control of the evening…not with obnoxious intensity, but by having expectations of my behavior and making me slightly uncomfortable if I wasn’t living up to those expectations. He made clear what he wanted but I always had a choice: behave well or find my way to the door. I was so fascinated, finding the door never occurred to me.

We didn’t make love, of course. I don’t like to get too intimate early on. But oh my was it tempting! I did break my own rule and sucked him off. I didn’t have to, and I feel kind of guilty about not having the self-discipline to keep my hands—and my mouth—to myself. But my impression was that he expected something for his time, some gift or sacrifice on my part to show that I was worthy and enthusiastic. He was respectful about it, but made his wishes known. Right before I decided to go for it, we were kissing, and his hand was in my hair giving it little tugs, steering my face towards his at the angles he found most pleasurable. He was masterful. There I’ve said it.

Renee read through to four days later. The entries inspired memories that were poignant and exciting. Her body flushed as she read.

Another evening with Kevin. It’s been too long since that first one, though it’s only been four days. I want him. He makes me burn inside, like a tiny ember that’s been fanned into flames with the right fuel. I want to please him, to have a few more minutes of his company, another one of his handsome smiles, a gesture, a word of praise, a remonstration if it’s deserved.

He isn’t afraid of me. Oh, he enjoys my red hair and my good figure—thank goodness for that gym membership—and he seems to enjoy my jokes and is respectful of my intelligence. And, OMG, how I love his strong hand guiding me at my waist. But he doesn’t kowtow to me. It’s always his party, and I can come along and be part of it, or watch it drive away (in a Lamborghini, no less). I choose to do what I can to remain. And, as it turns out, the price is right in the ballpark…well, maybe a little higher than I’ve paid before. I got a bit mouthy with an overworked parking valet, tonight. Nothing severe, but sharp-tongued and maybe kind of rude. Kevin raised a black eyebrow at me and, with a sinking feeling, I thought maybe I’d blown it beyond repair. But I hadn’t. He told me to follow him home, so I figured I hadn’t embarrassed myself totally.

His house sits elegantly on a little rise. It’s just on the outskirts of Brentwood. He said it had been in his family for a couple of generations. Apparently, he comes from money. Don’t know much about his family.

At his house, I parked in the long, circular driveway and he took my hand and led me into the foyer. He took my coat and I left my purse there in the vestibule. We went directly to the formal living room, and that’s where it started.

He sat down in a leather wing-back chair and gestured to the floor. Now, from my experience with Tom, I had an inkling of where this was going. I was eager to please Kevin, but at the same time, I knew that once I trod upon that path again, it would be a commitment. Was I ready to take a chance on Kevin? Was I willing to test his expectations, find his limits, trust him?

Yes.

I got down on the floor at his feet and snuggled up to his leg. He put his hand in my hair and wrapped it around his big fist, giving it a tug forceful enough to hold my attention. My body reacted in the way I learned before; I was hot and tight, with electric sparks between nipples and pussy.

“I want you to take off your blouse and bra. Leave on your skirt and jewelry and all the rest.”

He let go of my hair and I moved to do as he asked. Did he ask? Not exactly. It was more like he let his expectations be known and it was up to me to please him. I knew that if I failed, he would send me home and I’d never see him again. That was an awful idea, and I was very excited about his interest in me, unwilling to have it end. It was like a compulsion: I had to do it, had to see what was on the other side of the curtain.

Once I’d removed my blouse and bra, I was a little uncomfortable. Nudity was de rigueur in Tom’s circle, but I didn’t know how Kevin approached it. I knelt there, exposed and trembling slightly as he watched me. His eyes appraised me, lingering on my upper arms and my nipples.

“Cup them and present. Do you know how to do that?”

I gulped. Oh, I definitely knew how to do that. I took a breast in each hand, nipples exposed, and positioned myself to face him, holding them up for his inspection…and waited. I grew uncomfortable waiting. I watched his face, looking for a signal that I should do something else, but no signal came. Finally he said “very good,” and told me to take off my skirt and half-slip. He implied, without saying, that I was to leave on my garter belt, stockings, panties and shoes. I rose to my feet and complied, then stood there waiting for further instructions.

Again, his laser-beam eyes roamed over me until I was squirming with discomfort.

“You were rude to the valet tonight, Renee.”

I bit my lip. So he hadn’t forgotten. “Yes, sir.” I don’t know what inspired me to start calling him sir, except my previous training with Tom. This seemed considerably more adult and serious, however.

“Do you want to be a better girl? More in control of your temper?”

I considered that for about a second—of course I wanted to be more in control of myself! I knew that I was often too volatile. Redhead’s temper and all of that. “Yes, please, sir.”

“Remember that as I punish you for being rude. Come lie across my lap.” He patted his thighs.

Did I want to be spanked? Would he do damage? I hardly knew him. Still…He had a good reputation in the world. He was smart and always cool and collected. He never raised his voice. “Yes, sir.”

I admit, I dragged my feet a little. I was afraid and excited at the same time. Giving trust like that was difficult. But I took a chance and lay across his lap.

His hand moved over my thighs and bottom, fingering the garters and sliding over and under the strings of my thong. His fingers were cool and firm. I could smell his cologne as I lay there, trembling with anticipation. He smelled like sandalwood.

He peeled down my thong until it was down at my knees. “Count, Renee.”

I didn’t get a chance to say yes sir before his hand came down—hard!—on my butt. Current raced from my hot posterior to my pussy. It was wonderful! I counted, of course, up to twenty-five, and not long after, I started to cry. My behind was on fire. I was in a humiliating position, panties pulled down, face down across his knees. He gave me two more swats and turned me over in his lap until I was sitting, head pressed against his shoulder, sobbing a little. There was a thick erection in his pants.

“Good girl.”

“Thank you,” I sniffled. And although my butt was sore, I felt lighter than I had in a long, long time. As though a burden had been lifted, and all my sins forgiven. I had paid the consequences for my actions.

“The next time we go to that restaurant, Renee, you are going to apologize to that valet. It doesn’t have to be extravagant. An ‘I’m sorry I snapped at you,’ would be sufficient. Do you understand?”

I nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“Good. Now, I’ll bet you’d like a sign that you’re still in good favor. Like maybe you’d like me to fuck you, or allow you to give me head again.”

I did want that assurance. “I want to please you, sir. I want to do what’s right.”

“I will decide what’s right, Renee. If you don’t like that paradigm, it’s best for you to leave now and we’ll pretend all of this never happened. I won’t contact you any further.”

“No! I mean, no sir!” Pride? What pride? “I want to learn from you.”

Kevin’s eyes were piercing as he gazed into mine. “Your blue eyes are exquisite, my pet. Even slightly red from crying. Perhaps even more attractive for that.” I preened a little in response, hoping that something good was coming next.

He began to tease my nipples, first one then the other and back again. They responded and warmth spread down my belly. Frequently, he’d pinch, pause, and pinch harder. His eyes were on my face, gauging my reactions. I couldn’t look at him—or at anything—I could only sit there with my eyes closed as he led me along. There was a gentle ache growing in my belly, and I knew I was getting wet. My nipples were stiff and eager, and his pinches came more often and were harder. I loved it!

He whispered in my ear and I was slightly startled, but his warm, low voice was intoxicating. “You want me to touch your pussy, don’t you, Renee? You want me to reach between your legs and rub your clit. You want me to fuck you with my fingers.”

“Yes, sir. Please?”

“You’ll have to ask better than that,” he said, twisting a nipple harshly. I couldn’t hold back a small moan.

“Please, sir, please touch my pussy.”

“That’s a bit better.” He pressed his lips to my ear, biting the lobe a little, teasing, his fingers remaining on my nipples. They were getting a bit sore, but it was a good sore. Each pinch became a kind of caress, causing a sting of pleasure to shoot down to my cleft. “One more try, Renee. But if you don’t get it right the third time, I’ll stop what I’m doing.”

His laugh was low and genuine. “You want to please me? Aren’t you actually using me to get your own pleasure?“

My eyes opened as he withdrew his hand from my breasts. “I’m sorry, sir. How can I please you?”

He ran his fingers along the side of my face and rubbed his thumb along my lower lip. “Kiss me. Show me how excited you are.”

I wanted to devour him, to have him devour me. We kissed gently at first, but soon with vigorous abandon. He trailed his lips from my mouth down my throat, to the juncture of my neck and shoulder. When he bit there, it was a starburst through my body. That is a primary erogenous zone for me and he found it right away, not giving it sweet and feathery kisses, but fully applying his teeth to the muscle there. He didn’t break the skin, of course, but I thought—fleetingly—that I might have a bruise the next day. The idea that I’d be “marked” by his attentions for a day or two was exhilarating. It all added up to one hard peak; it was an orgasm that rocked me, bringing a sharp moan to my lips, arching my back.

“Your responsiveness is delightful,” he told me. “But next time, ask permission first. Do you understand?”

“Y-y-yes, sir,” I stammered on a whisper, my body floating back from its internal high. He surprised me by gently pushing my thighs apart and pressing his palm against my pussy, holding it there, unmoving. I suppose he could feel the little twitches that were the aftermath of a potent climax, but for whatever reason, he didn’t do more than cup.

“Do you want me to claim this for my own?” he asked, his voice a soft rumble in my left ear.

“Oh God…”

“God is not here, sweetheart. It’s only you and me.”

“I want to please you so much.”

“You do please me. I want to continue.”

“Whatever I have, you can have it.” It was a surrender of self. We hadn’t solidified the deal in any formal way, but my surrender was a step upon that journey.

“I want this pussy right now. I’m going to take it from you.”

I moaned, raising my hips to press my mound against his hand. His fingers petted the small patch of red hair at the top of my slit, and trailed down along the lips. Two fingers spread me open a little, and my eyes closed again. I knew there was a pool of wetness that showed my wild excitement.

His breath was warm in my ear as he brought his hand to my lips. “Taste.”

I opened my mouth slightly, and he inserted two fingers. I licked. My cum tasted savory and creamy. He withdrew his fingers—slowly—and I licked my lips.

“Pretty mouth,” he told me, and how could I help but be pleased by the compliment. I smiled.

He set his hand right back to my pussy, this time a bit more aggressively, exploring, dipping into the cream and spreading it up toward my excited clit. I thought I might die if he didn’t touch it. It was on my tongue to beg him to do it, when he did. At first it was a gentle rub, but it became somewhat more vigorous, and another orgasm threatened.

“Please! Oh God, oh sir! May I, may I come?”

“Yes. It’s mine. I want it now.”

He pinched and I arched my butt off his lap and cried out with pain as I came hard, seeing stars of pleasure while my body shuddered with both agony and ecstasy.

I can’t go on here. I need my vibrator. More tomorrow.

Renee sat quietly, moisture pooling on her panties. Reading about those first experiences brought back so many exquisite memories and feelings. Their relationship had matured and been enriched by the ensuing five years, but each highlight was a bright star in the night-colored fabric of their life together.

Her body was anxious for release, but unlike those days five years ago, a vibrator was out of the question. She didn’t even own one. He’d be home soon. She’d just have to be good.